About Jess Howard
Poems
Recordings
Contacting Jess Howard

About Jess Howard:

I rodeo'd for a number of years in the northern part of the country.  In 1970 I was the N. R. C. A. saddle bronc champion.

I moved to a warmer climate and shod horses for 20 years in Fallon, Nevada.

Now, I run a few cows on a ranch south of Marmarth, North Dakota, shoe a few horses and drive a truck.

I have been what you might call a "closet poet" for many years, but have gone public for the past six years or so.

I have been the featured poet at gatherings in Medora, North Dakota; Lewistown, Montana; Durango, Colorado; Heber City, Utah; and Valentine, Nebraska, among others.

I was one of the featured performers at Elko, Nevada for five years.

I and my brother Pat Richardson from California write poetry with each other and about each other.

Truth is not a necessary ingredient.

Honored Guest Pat Richardson offers his own version of his brother Jess's bio:

Jess Howard (full brother, long seemingly pointless story) was the 1970 N.R.C.A. Saddle Bronc Champion. He and I rodeo'd many years together, and wrote quite a few poems together. He has been a horseshoer since he quit riding broncs. His daughter Jody was the National High School Rodeo Queen one year, and 3 times Nevada state High school Barrel racing champion. His son Jeff team ropes and runs a bunch of cows up in Montana. And his wife Judy also is a barrel Racer. Jess is also a great singer, and lately has begun singing some at the gatherings he goes to. He's fairly honest, has quite a few bad habits (he mostly got from me), he's pretty easy to get along with ('long as things go his way) as a kid he wet the bed and chewed his fingernails, but I notice lately he's stopped chewing his nails, (not sure about the bedwetting).  He doesn't have a computer so he can't check on his site (that's why I'm so brave writing his bio).

Poems

The Ol' Cowboy

Shoein' Johnson's Pet

The Environment

 

The Ol' Cowboy

 He wore a tailored western suit, a Stetson, an' a tie
An' the boots that he was wearin' were the best a man could buy

His normal mode of dress was faded shirt an' denim pants
As he tended to the livestock on his little mountain ranch

Sometimes for recreation he would load his horse an' go
To the neighbors for a ropin' or some nearby rodeo

But he'd come from Arizona, several hundred miles away
To say "Goodbye" to Charlie, an ol' friend who'd passed away

When the services were over he decided he would stop
For some coffee an' a donut at the local coffee shop

The locals looked him over from his footwear to his lid
Drawin' pictures in their minds of who he was an' what he did

He might be some wealthy banker that had come from out of town
Servin' notice of foreclosure on the luckless Widow Brown

Or might be some politician walkin' both sides of the fence
Stuffin' dollars in his pockets at the working' mans expense

Or perhaps he sold insurance to the old, infirmed, an' grey
That proclaimed in tiny print that there was nothing' they would pay
 
But the thing left unconsidered as he left their town behind
That he might truly be a cowboy never even crossed their mind

© 3/6/96 Jess Howard

Shoein' Johnson's Pet
 

I've thought about it often 'bout how horses think an' do
An' no matter what you say they make a liar out of you

If you brag about his slidin' stop, he'll probably run away
If you say," We gotta rope him." He'll stand right there in the way

If you say," He's broke to death." He'll likely buck your saddle off
If you say," He's had all his shots." He'll start to wheeze an' cough

So you see why I tensed up when ol' man Johnson sez to me,
" Why he's gentle as a kitten son, he wouldn't hurt a flea."

An' the truth is, he is gentle, if you pet him while he eats
Just don't make plans to ride him, or try pickin' up his feet

'Cause he don't care much for saddles, or you nailin' on a shoe
An' gets savage when it's something' that he doesn't wanna do

Ol' man Johnson held the lead rope, but give him too much slack
When I grabbed a foot he bit the lowest portion of my back

I slapped him an' he struck, he filled my mouth an' ears with dirt
Missed my hide but pawed the pockets off my cleanest dirty shirt

I got a cotton rope an' jacked one hind foot off the ground
He reared straight up an' turned himself completely upside down

Ol' man Johnson got upset about the language that I used
makin' cockamamie comments that his horse had been abused

Horse abuse? I'm five foot eight, a hundred fifty's what I weigh
Squarin' off in all out war with half a ton of Casius Clay

So I sez," The way I see it, an' the way it's gonna be
Is one of us has got to go, you decide on you or me."

Well he knew he couldn't shoe him so he turns an' heads for home
As those sweaty spots on Dobbin had begun to turn to foam

He fought just like a tiger, he was skinned from end to end
Then he'd stop an' catch his air a bit, then start it all again

Wearin' down he finally got to where he'd stand for just a bit
Restin' up an' gainin' strength to throw another wall eyed fit

He got shod in bits an' pieces as he fought an' thrashed around
'till ol' Johnson's horse corral was layin' mostly on the ground

I was sweatin' like a slave an' thought, "He must be shod at last
'cause I've nailed a shoe on each an' everything I saw go past."

 © 2/5/97 Jess Howard

The Environment
 

Those environmental wizards that decide how things should be
Have made a lengthy list of things worth more than you an' me

Lizards, weeds, an' bushes, these learned scholars think
Should now become a ward of state lest they become extinct

They scold us like a wayward child for makin' such a fuss
When we find that bugs an' barnrats have more civil rights than us

Mice that curse our homesites, an' who's names we take in vain
Can sue, if you call in the cat, to trap him's inhumane

We can't cut trees for lumber 'cause the owl's out on a limb
An' I wonder, are they gonna let us bunk up there with him?

An' when man becomes endangered by environmental laws
Who will gird their loins in battle in the name of human cause?

'Cause if man keeps doin' business with this type of protocol
The bugs, the rats, an' mice will have the last laugh on us all

© 2/5/97 Jess Howard

 

Recordings  

Pat & Jess

Four tapes of brothers Pat Richardson and Jess Howard  

$10.00 each, postpaid

Available from:

Pat Richardson
562 Breeze Avenue
Merced, California 95348
209/722-4612
email

---

 

What's inside is just as good as the cover. Where the Buffalo Rhyme (named by Baxter Black) was recorded live in October, 2003 at the Boss Cowman Cowboy Opry in Lemmon, South Dakota, and features four top poets, all Honored Guests: Jess Howard, Yvonne Hollenbeck, Rodney Nelson and Elizabeth Ebert.  Jim Thompson, of Live With Jim Thompson! and Heritage of the West is the emcee.  

Included poems are:

Jess Howard
     Duckin' the Law
    Big Bad John, Part II
    Suicide
    Matter of Minds
    Old Henry

Yvonne Hollenbeck
     What Would Martha Do
     Poor Old Geezer Dames
     Why His Ears are Swollen
     The Waitress
     Rebel Rouser
     Best Gift I've Had in Years

Elizabeth Ebert
     It Takes Real Love
     The Last Great Rabbit Hunt
     An Ordinary Morning
     Ranch Romance
     The Cemetery
     Ode to Tofu
     Cowboy Courtin' Time

Rodney Nelson
     Auction Sale
     Getting Started
     Good Clean Fun
     Not Enough Stuff
     Cowboy Laundry

The CD is available from any of the four poets for $15. And is:

See a review here.

 

Contacting Jess Howard:

 

Jess Howard

PO Box 145

Wibaux, Montana 59353

(406) 796 - 6680